The World Atlas of Wine: a Chateauneuf du Paper

First of all, a moan about the mysterious world of publishing. When I bought this brilliant, enormous, beautiful tome there were two interesting numbers on it (there are lots more inside). On the back, printed onto the sleeve that the book sleeps in between thumbings, was the figure £75 – the amount it is supposed to cost. On the front, printed on a sticker placed there by the retailer, was the figure £15 – the amount the book actually cost. That’s a titchy 20% of the advertised retail price. Something here isn’t making a lot of sense.

It’s not like this is some dusty old remaindered tome that I intercepted on its way to the incinerator: it’s the seventh edition of a much-loved and widely-venerated publication and was released on 7 October, a couple of weeks ago. It’s just that nothing about books is as fictional as the make-believe prices their publishers print on them, while simultaneously agreeing to charge a pathetic fraction of that amount to any business willing to place a massive order. This leads to comedy price-cutting by online giants, a sense of helplessness among small, independent booksellers and a feeling of confusion and suspicion among shoppers.

Fortunately, the book is probably worth any of those prices, and certainly more than the amount I paid for it. It was never going to be, and certainly isn’t, full of hilarious jokes and clever wordplay, but the text is all extremely readable, admirably so given how much work it’s got to do. There’s a mind-bending amount of information here, all assembled with incredible attention to detail and then decorated with innumerable photographs and maps and labels (I’m not sure I need all those wine labels, really) before being spread across a table-vexing 377 pages plus index. It has been written, edited and proofread with unusual care, and my cap is doffed to all concerned. It takes itself so seriously that each page is split into a grid, so that the index doesn’t just point you towards the right map for your entry of choice, but to the specific square inch of utmost relevance.

Beyond the bizarre pricing it’s very hard to quibble with anything about this book. Indeed my list of complaints, and I’ve searched fairly hard because I quite like complaining, has just two entries. First, it’s inevitable that some people will find their favourite wine region under-represented, particularly given that France gets almost a third of the book on its own, but I was surprised to find that the next largest chapter is devoted to North America, which with 37 pages get five more than Italy (even though the Italians make more than twice as much wine) and more than twice as much space as Spain (the world’s third-biggest wine producer). However many pages you’ve got, there are never enough. Second, in the colour-coded map of Châteauneuf-du-Pape’s soil types the area known as Orange is predominantly pink, but the area next to Orange is mainly orange. Where’s the logic in that?

There’s more, or rather less, to wine than the accumulation of knowledge, than soil types and geography and average rainfall and prevailing winds. But this ancillary information can also add a joy of its own, and no wine will ever be less appreciated if the drinker reads the appropriate page or two of this book before it’s opened. I have never owned or paid much attention to the six previous editions, and now I find myself awed with appreciation for the effort, knowledge and beauty that I have just acquired. This pristine palace of pages – a Châteauneuf du Paper, if you like – is the most essential of all wine books. Buy it. Just be careful where.

5 responses to “The World Atlas of Wine: a Chateauneuf du Paper”

Unfortunate the permanent discounting of products. It leaves the consumer unaware of what a ‘fair’ price is. You always feel that you just might be paying too much regardless. Of how low the price is.
Thanks for the heads up on the book. Haven’t seen it about but will look it up.

Oh, I love this book. No matter what other wine book I’m reading, I always have the atlas open to see exactly where it is that I’m reading about, topography and all. It’s true what you say about ancillary wine information having a joy of its own. I think possibly most wine people love maps because we use wine to mentally travel the world.

It’s an astonishing bargain, of course, but also an insult to logic, the authors, the publishing industry, trees, ink and all mankind. I bought my copy for more than twice that, and thought the price was ridiculously low then. Enjoy!